


Burn Bright

by Lyra_87



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Anger, Angry Sex, Closure, Heartbreak, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyra_87/pseuds/Lyra_87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looked back up at the night sky, taking in the stars that were long dead, and yet still burning with a brightness that nothing else on this earth could ever hope to mimic. They stood out, dead but yet not forgotten, still utterly perfect even in death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burn Bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixiewayro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiewayro/gifts).



> This is a one shot that came to me last night. I really hope you like! Feedback/Kudos are awesome, so please leave some if you can. Thanks to pixiewayro who beta'd for me!
> 
> Lyra xx

The night sky was amazingly clear. Every single star seemed to shine brightly, the light of the moon so intense that it took the raven haired man’s breath away. It was a truly beautiful night, one that inspired awe at its beauty, and envy that he would never be able to create a sight as beautiful as the one in front of his glazed eyes. His hands were steady, his body almost still in an imitation of calm serenity. The only movement he made was the occasional drag he took of the cancer stick his mouth and fingers clung to with desperation. It was the last cigarette he would inhale as a single man, and he wanted to enjoy the last few minutes he had before he committed the rest of his life to the woman who had stolen his affection on the last leg of a never-ending touring. He couldn’t believe that she, a beautiful musician in a band that had given his band one of their first breaks years ago, had been able to bring a smile to his face again upon their meeting again on a summer tour, when his world had felt like it was imploding in a cloud of despair and loneliness from the constant travelling and tiredness. He never imagined that anybody could hold a place in his heart after it had been crushed so completely and heartlessly by the only person he had ever loved. It wasn’t true love, by any means. His heart didn’t go haywire when she was near. He didn’t get aroused instantly by her scent alone. His pulse didn’t race by the mere sight of her. He never drew her likeness on a piece of white paper, just to see if how he saw her in his mind compared to reality. He didn’t pick up a book, or listen to a song, and wonder if she would enjoy it too, or if she had an opinion on it. She was beautiful, though. She was witty, intelligent, creative and artistic, in the same way that he was. She was edgy, and every tattoo on her lithe, perfectly toned body had a story to tell. She was his female counterpart, in mannerisms, and outlook in life. They had a connection, and a bond, and in his mind, that was enough. Love had sucked him in, chewed him up, and spat him out, without so much as a thank you, and he knew it was no guarantee of happiness, or longevity. It only guaranteed pain, and he had had enough of that to last him a lifetime. She offered him something better than love – she offered him a future, a family, a chance to redeem himself from the wrongs he had done. She offered him more than _he_ ever could. Maybe it was wrong to whisper that he loved her more than any other woman in the world, leaving out the part about the man who had been the one to capture his heart, as undeserving as he was. He was moving on, and she was the one who could heal the pain with her lip-gloss smile and scraped up knees from her thrashing around on stage.

He was absorbed in his thoughts, and the magnificence of the night sky, and how insignificant he was in comparison to the vast swirl of dark colours and twinkling stars that stretched out as far as the eye could see. He didn’t hear the heavy boot-clad footsteps that sought him out in the dark. He hadn’t told anybody where he was – he was getting married in an hour, so everybody had let him be when he mumbled that he was going out for a smoke, letting him get his head together before he made the biggest commitment of his life. He had sneaked off to a little area just outside the tour bus area. Nobody came out there, and it was little more than a noman’s land. He had been wandering aimlessly when he found the hidden spot. It was a fenced-off box, separating the bus area from the rest of the world. It was peaceful, quiet and tranquil, until he finally caught the sound of familiar footsteps coming his way. His heart began to beat quicker, harder, as though reminding him that the younger man who stood behind him had bruised, shattered and crushed it, without so much as batting an eyelid.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

The younger man’s voice cut through the silence, an edge to his voice that he couldn’t quite describe. It was tense, with a hint of bitterness that shook him to his core. The smaller man behind him had no reason or cause to be bitter. It had been his decision to end their little affair, so he could marry his childhood sweetheart, and have the family he had always wanted. He had wanted to give his wife a genuine marriage, with the fidelity that came with it. The older man had respected it – he had gone to the wedding, even, and shook the bride's hand with a smile that covered up his pain and resentment. He didn’t hold it against her, and in a way, he didn’t even hold it against the dark haired man standing behind him. He couldn’t resent the heart’s desire to have a family, to conform to the societal preconception of how a person should live their life, and raise a family. He only resented that his heart still ached from the blow that had seemed so sudden, even though, in reality, it had been a long time coming.

“That depends on what you heard,” he shrugged, taking another drag, and flicking some of the ash off his cigarette.

“Are you really going to marry her?”

There was a desperate plea clinging to the voice that infiltrated his sense of hearing. One that begged him to tell him that it wasn’t true, that it was a rumour. It wasn’t, though.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t going to explain his actions, or thinking, or whatever it was the man that was now standing right behind him was expecting of him. The smaller man lost that right, and in truth, he never really had it either.

“You move on easily for a guy who called me a heartless bastard only six months ago.”

The accusation was there, alright. The one that said he wasn’t really over the dark haired man, whose breath was tingling against the back of his neck, or that he was perhaps questioning if he ever really loved him at all.

“What can I say? She’s the one,” he lied, taking one last hit of the cigarette before throwing it to the ground.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a bad liar? I’m surprised she can’t see through it.”

“There’s nothing to see through. I love her. I’m going to marry her. That’s all there is to it.”

“Even you don’t believe that.”

“So what? What’s it to you? Don’t tell me married life is already getting you down.”

The sarcastic words were met with an intense silence, one that ached to be filled with words that couldn’t be spoken.

“You won’t be happy. She can’t make you happy.”

“How would you know? You don’t know her.”

“But I know you, or have you forgotten already?”

He finally turned around to face his tormentor, the man who still invaded his dreams with distorted memories from happier times.

“I’ve forgotten nothing,” he hissed, before a moment of blind fury took over his consciousness.

His hands sought out the younger man’s top, twisting the fabric in his hands and shoving the younger man’s back against the metal fence that separated them from everyone else. The younger man was unfazed by the anger – perhaps it was what he wanted. He could see how the younger man’s breathing had sped up a little, and how his plump lips were slightly parted from the adrenaline, and how the moonlight made his brown eyes and dark eyelashes stand out. He could see that outline of the tattoos on his neck, and though he couldn’t see them clearly in the light, he could remember every vibrant detail of them, and how they stood out brilliantly in contrast to the milky pale skin, that was similar to his own skintone. He could feel the younger man’s heart beating in his chest, and the mixed scent of cologne and sweat invaded his nostril, bringing back memories of the nights they would spend in hotel rooms, hot and sweaty, on a rough, hard mattress, that felt like heaven in comparison to the bunk beds they were forced to cram themselves into while on the road.

It was muscle memory that made him crash his lips against the younger man’s chapped lips. It wasn’t gentle or caring. It was rough, bruising and full of unspoken anger that had been pent up for too long. The younger man didn’t stop him, or protest against the rough treatment.He merely groaned from the sudden sharp pain, then willingly complied with the kiss. He parted his lips when the older man swiped his tongue along his plump lower lip. They battled for dominance with impatience, both of them aware that they only had limited time. Their crotches rubbed together, grinding roughly, and drawing a moan from their throats in unison. They both swelled from the friction, need and long-denied desire making them hard with astounding speed. The night air was filled with low moans and gasping breaths as the two men lost themselves in their passion.

Instinct and need fuelled their actions, and without a word spoken, the older man swung the small man around, earning a shocked gasp from the younger man, who barely had time to save his face from crashing against the metal wired fence. The older man wasted no time with ceremony, and within seconds his hands were pulling down the younger man’s jeans and boxers, pushing them down to his thighs, and exposing his ass. With shaking hands, he fumbled his own zip, pulling his aching erection free from his boxers with a sharp breath. He spat on his hand generously, and stroked himself to coat his member. He didn’t prep the younger man – they were no novices, and time was not a luxury they had right then. He spread the younger man’s cheeks, lining himself up at his tight entrance. He took his time entering the younger man’s tightness, giving him time to adjust to the stretch. The younger man groaned in pain, but never once did he ask the older to stop, or give any sign that he didn’t want what was happening. The older man waited, taking in deep breaths, to stop himself from pounding into the younger man without abandon, like he desperately wanted to. The younger man let out a breath, and then with a barely perceivable nod of his head, he gave permission for the older man to move. He didn’t need to be told twice, and he began a fast, hard rhythm that burned his lungs and coated his skin with a thin sheen of sweat. He quickly found the younger man’s prostate.It was almost second nature for him to angle himself to hit the spot over and over again, relishing in the sounds that came from the younger man. He gripped the younger man’s hips, keeping him still, while he rammed into the abused body with a reckless abandon that vented all his anger, hurt, pain and feelings of worthlessness. The younger man took it, delighted in it even, if his moans and grunts of pleasure were any indication. The older man kept his eyes focused on the sight of his dick thrusting inside the tight cavity that felt like home, to keep his eyes averted from watching the younger man’s pleasure-filled expression that was ingrained in his memory. The sight would be too much for him, and bring up more pain than he wanted to deal with. This was his last chance to get rid of the desire to have the younger man one last time. This was his last time to enjoy being inside the man that still made his heart flutter with want and love by the mere sight of him.

He felt the familiar feeling in his stomach that indicated that his release was fast approaching. His stomach tightened, his oxygen levels went down dramatically, and his eyes became blurred and hazy, the closer it came. His hand sought out the younger man’s erection, which was painfully hard in his hand, and he began to pump it in time with his thrusts. The choked gasp that came from the younger man only urged him on, making his thrusts harder, faster, less controlled. The younger came with a scream and a string of curses, and it pushed the older man over the precipice of his own release. He came silently, his mouth opened wide in a silent ‘o’, eyes shut tightly as the pleasure consumed him and every muscle in his body tightened and relaxed in a mind blowing combination that erased every thought and every sound from his consciousness.

When he rode out the last of his orgasm, he regained his ability to think and hear. His lips were pressing themselves softly, almost lovingly, against the younger man’s neck, a reflex from their past, and the many nights that they had spent together. He could hear the younger man’s laboured breathing, and feel how he shook as he came down from his high. He released the younger man’s cock, which was met with a hiss from the oversensitivity, and then pulled out from the now widened entrance. He flicked his wrist to get rid of the cum that was on his hand, and then licked off the sticky residue, rather than the alternative of wiping it on his jeans. He fixed his now softened member back into his jeans,  turning his back on the younger man, who was pulling his boxers and jeans back over his hips and ass, zipping them back up with a loud, sharp sound that rang in the older man’s ears.

He didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could fill the void that separated the two of them now. With a quick turn of his wrist, he saw he now had twenty minutes to go back to the backstage area, where his soon to be wife, brother and friends would be waiting with a member of the band’s crew, who was an ordained minister. In twenty minutes, he would be legally bound to another human being. He would be promising to be faithful. To honour and respect her, to be her only, and in return, let her be his only. He would be promising the things that the man he hadfucked had broken moments ago. Guilt wormed his way into his gut, twisting sharply, in case he forgot what a bad man he was.

“This will never go away, you know,” the younger man panted, and the older man didn’t have to turn around to know that his brown orbs were on his retreating form, “What we had was real. It just couldn’t last.”

“You didn’t want it to last,” the older man pivoted, anger flaring once again.

“You’re right. I didn’t. I think it’sbetter to end things while it’s good, before it burns away, until nothing is left.”

“That wasn’t just your choice to make.”

“Yes, it was, and I don’t regret it. I’m going to be a dad in seven months. I have a wife who loves me, and she’s going to be the best mother my child could ever have. I wanted it, and I knew you would want it too eventually. The fact that you’re marrying her proves that I was right. What we had was good, and now it always will be. One day, you’ll realise that and you’ll thank me for it. Now, we have one last memory, and a last goodbye.”

The younger man gripped the older man’s arm, forcing him to face him.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier. She’s an amazing woman, and she’ll make you happier than I ever could in the long run. I just needed you to be angry, because I knew you needed this. Maybe I did too, before our lives change even more. This is just how things are meant to be, and it’s okay. We don’t have any regrets, and that’s better than what most people are left with when things are over.”

The older man swallowed the lump in his throat, the words cutting though him like a knife. There was a truth in what the younger man said, and the pain and anger in his chest started to ease. Maybe the younger man was right - maybe they were better to burn bright and fade quickly.Maybe it was better to always want more, rather than letting the passion die a slow death.

“I’ll tell everyone you’re on your way,” the younger man nodded, saying everything he felt needed to be said. He walked away, feeling the older man’s eyes follow him until he was out of sight.

The raven haired man caught his breath, unaware that he had stopped breathing while the younger man had spoken. He looked back up at the night sky, taking in the stars that were long dead, and yet still burning with a brightness that nothing else on this earth could ever hope to mimic. They stood out, dead, but yet not forgotten, still utterly perfect, even in death. A wave of calm washed over him, along with an acceptance that had long evaded him. A slow, sad smile graced his lips, and with one last, deep breath, he looked away from the sky and walked towards his future.


End file.
